


All We Ever Wanted

by The_Onyx_Moon



Series: From the Outside [4]
Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: F/M, Loss of Virginity, Not A Fix-It, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Unhappy Ending, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Onyx_Moon/pseuds/The_Onyx_Moon
Summary: Life in the tail section is brutal and inescapable.  All you ever wanted was to get out.  All you ever wanted was for him to notice you.





	All We Ever Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> So just like the movie, this fic isn’t sunshine and rainbows. It won’t be a happy ending and it will mention some pretty dark shit. This fic takes place right at the beginning of the film.

The tail section.

The mother fucking tail section.

It was all you ever knew.  You were too young to remember what it was like when you first boarded - when the world had ended.  You weren’t even 6 yet, but you were crafty.  When the riots and cannibalism started, you hid and hid well.

An orphan from day one since you couldn’t even trust your own parents not to eat you.  Only so many places you could hide in an iron box, too.  But you managed.  You managed to hide for long enough to survive, and here you were - god knows how many years later - still alive.  However old you were.

The cars up front would count down to each new year, not that you’d hear everyone.  But from what you gathered, you were 19, maybe 20.

Old enough to hold your own and make life in this metal fucking prison as good as can be.

At least you never resorted to cannibalism.

The same couldn’t be said for a lot of the older residents of the tail section.

* * *

The first time you bite into your protein bar and it crunches between your teeth, you know exactly who to go to.  A capsule containing a red letter.  Your feet carry you as fast as you can to the furthest most point of the train.

Right to Gilliam’s office.

He, in turn, takes you to the strongest, most frightening man in the tail section.

Curtis Everett.

A legend in his own right.

Gilliam’s right-hand man and the brains of the upcoming revolution.

He’d terrified you since you were a little girl, and though you weren’t 100% sure as to why you knew you shouldn’t step a single toe out of line where he was concerned.

Not when those piercing blue eyes stared at you so intently.

“He means no harm,”  Tanya tells you, her kind smile lighting up a soot-covered face.  “He’s just seen a lot of…well, he’s seen a lot.”  Her smirk turns a little feral, a hungry glint in her eye.  “Seems like he wants to see a lot more, too.”

You blush at her wink, grateful for the soot that covers your own cheeks.  Curtis doesn’t take his eyes off of you, and so it goes for days.

The red letters keep coming, and passengers keep planning.

You get a little thrill every time a red letter shows up in  _your_ protein blocks as it gives you a chance to speak to the intense, older man.  Together, he, Gilliam, and you crowd into Gilliam’s semi-private quarters and hash out a plan.

“I’m not sure what to do.”  He confides in you one night after Gilliam has fallen asleep.  “We’re not soldiers, half of the people in the tail are train babies.  I don’t want to be leading them to a slaughter.”

“We all know what we’re getting into, here.  Slaughter would be better than this shit.”  You wave what’s left of your protein brick at him for good measure.  He gifts you with a soft chuckle and an almost smile.  It takes your breath away.

“So it’s the blind leading the blind, huh?”

“They’d follow you anywhere, Curtis.”  Jaw set, his eyes swivel back to you and you can’t help but gulp at the flames you see there.

“And you?”  His voice is liquid honey poured over gravel, a sound that shoots straight down your spine and into your grimy pants.  He’s so close, backing you into the rumbling wall of the train.  Shared breath swirls between the two of you, visible in the chill of the air.

“What about me?”  You whisper, afraid that if you speak any louder the bubble of this fantasy will pop and leave you wanting.

“Would  _you_ follow me?”  Silence looms, those stormy eyes searching your face.  You’d compare them to the ocean - if you remembered what the ocean looked like.  With a surge of confidence, you nod, fingers fisting in the lapels of his jacket.

“To hell and back.”

He doesn’t kiss you like you’d been  ~~wanting~~  thinking.  Instead, he breathes, slow and shallow as he tries to get something inside of himself under control.  It makes you want him more.

Helplessly, you watch him storm through the fabric separating Gilliam’s chamber from the rest of the tail, and take a moment to get your own heartbeat under control.

* * *

“So ya gonna fuck ‘im, or what?”  Protein block lodges itself in your windpipe, Edgar’s hand smacking your back to dislodge it as if he hadn’t been the one shocking you into inhaling it.  A garbled ‘ _what the fuck_ ’ from you has him giggling like mad.  “Just tha’!  Are ya gonna fuck ‘im, or do I hafta?”

“Edgar.”  You warn with narrowed eyes.

“Ya know yer thinkin it.”  You roll your eyes, turning your back on him.

“Not like I could ever act on it.”  You mumble.

“And why the hell not?”  

“Do I have to spell everything out for you?”  He nods, like the little shit he is, and smirks.  With a grand sweep of your arms, you motion to the tail section and the distinct lack of walls.  “Do you see us getting any privacy any time soon?”

“Who says it’d hafta be private?  Dunno if you’ve noticed, but there’s plenty a’ tail section babies runnin’ around. Guarantee those ladies didn’ care bout ‘privacy’.”  You groan at that, rolling your eyes at his wagging eyebrows and successfully ending the conversation with a ‘ _Pervert_.’

After that, things seem to snowball.  A routine medical check they tell you.  Only it isn’t.  Like several times before, they take some children.  Unlike before, however, they take  _Tanya’s_  child.

A grave mistake, really, as it causes everyone to riot and then Andrew throws his shoe.  They punish him for that, sticking his arm out the side of the train until he’s down a limb.

This seems to be the straw that break’s Curtis’s back.

* * *

The plan is in full motion as Edgar goes through and grabs all the supplies they need for this mutiny.  Curtis attains Kronole.  And you…you wait.  It would be one full day before striking, during feeding.  So while you wait, you watch.  Eyes ever glued to your fearless leader.

“He’s a good man.”  Gilliam scares you straight out of your skin, his rough voice coming from nowhere.  “He’s done some…wretched things, but then we all have, haven’t we?  The train will do that to you.”  You wonder if he really needs you here for this conversation as it seems he’s having it with himself.

“Gilliam, I-”  His good hand clamps on your shoulder before he’s hobbling away.

“Don’t worry, child.  I’ll be back.  Why don’t you wait for me inside?”  Knowing eyes stare at you, the hint of a smile, but you know better than to question him.  “Go on.”

So you do, disappearing behind the cloth that is his doorway.  Such a small ‘room’ he has, but still so much bigger than the bunks you were used to.  At least in here he didn’t have to curl up into a little ball.

Lucky Bastard.

A commotion outside the doorway catches your attention and before you can move to see what’s going on, the voices grow closer.

“Edgar, I just saw Gilliam.  Why the hell would he need me to meet him in his room?”  Blood turns to ice in your veins, your heart hammering double time just to keep up when you hear his voice.

He’s close, so close, and you’re all alone in here.

You’d never been alone with him before.

Moments later, the curtain is thrown open and there he stands.  Tall, wide Curtis that is double your size and almost twice your age.  And God save you, you want him.  Bad.

Confusion is clear on his face, those thick eyebrows pulled low over the ice that are his eyes.  Your name is a question, one that you don’t have the answer to, and you’re unsure where to go from here.

You ramble for a few moments, nothing of real substance as you search for a way out.

All the while, those eyes watch and unnerve you and before you know it you’re pressed against the wall behind you.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?”  His words shock you and you’re left opening and closing your mouth like some moron.

“I-I..what do you mean?”  He growls, dirty lips baring perfectly white teeth.  Without a word, he takes your hand in his own and presses it against the front of his baggy jeans.

“ _That’s_  what I mean.”  He whispers, breath mingling with your own.  “You’re a fuckin kid, I shouldn’t want this.”

_Now or never, Y/N._

“Neither should I.”  You whisper, raising his hand to your breast.  “But here we are.”

Strong hips stutter into your hands, a strangled gasp at the touch of a woman for the first time in 17 years.  It’s needy, and broken, and oh so fucking tempting and you can’t stop yourself from capturing his lips in your own.

Hurried hands find your waist, gripping tightly and pulling your hips to his own.  For a moment, your hand is trapped between the two of you.  Cramped between rolling hips and a strong stomach.

If it weren’t so goddamn cold all the fucking time, you’d want him naked  _now_.

“Curtis, Curt-” a sigh - pleasure you’e never known before as his fingers breach the waist of your pants.  “Oh, God!”

“That’s it, baby.”  He groans, eyes drinking in the faces you make at the touch of his hands.  “Let me hear you.”

“B-but, everyone will hear.”

“Let them.”  He snarls, belt buckle clinking as his free hand rids him of his pants.  “I want you.  And I’m not holding back anymore.”

And oh, he doesn’t.

Cold be damned, the clothes are shed quickly, save for your coats staying on your arms as you cast each other’s shirts wide.  He’s  _beautiful_.  All sculpted muscle and smattering of hair across faded tattoos and your mouth simply waters.

Not waiting for even a moment, he latches his mouth to your breast the moment it’s exposed and  _whines_  at the taste of you.

After that, you don’t much care if the entire  _train_ can hear you.  You cry out at the top of your lungs, those fingers wreaking havoc against your clit.

“Come on, baby.”  He grunts, stroking himself with his free hand.  “Come for me.”  A blinding pleasure washes through you at that and you note how much better his fingers feel than yours as you coat his hand in your wetness.

Not a moment later, he’s pushing into you and you moan in tandem.

“Christ, you feel good.”  He snarls, keeping as still as he can for a moment.

“Wish I could say the same.”  You hiss, a sharp pain overpowering the pleasure when he gives an experimental roll.  Bushy eyebrows pull up in concern and those eyes stare at you like you’re some kicked puppy.  “Oh please, like you didn’t know I’m a virgin.”  You wince again.  “Well,  _was_.”

“Yeah, well. I might as well be.”  He chuckles, breathing deeply through his nose as to not go mad at the feel of your velvet walls squeezing him.  “17 years since I’ve had a woman and I’m ready to fuckin pop.”

“Well then,”  you say, fingers winding tightly behind his head.  With a tug, his beanie hits the floor and you’re pulling him closer to your body.  “Better make sure this is something to remember, huh?”  Nails drag across his scalp, the resulting shiver rocking both of your bodies and when the pain retreats enough, you moan.

“God, I love you.”  You decide not to over examine that desperate confession and instead focus on the pleasure you’re giving each other.  Not like you expected to survive long enough to make anything of this.

So instead, you mash your chapped lips to Curtis’s and ride him for all your worth, hands digging into his neck and shoulder for support as he traps you between the wall and himself.

Cries of ‘ _fuck me, Curtis, fuck me!_ ’ ring off the metal walls and you don’t give a single damn about who can hear or see you.  All that matters in Curtis and the way he drags in and out of you, staring at you like you’re the only woman he’s ever seen.

But of course, 17 years is a _long_  time to go without touch, and it’s over far sooner than either of you would like.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”  He says quietly, using his discarded scarf to wipe the mess the two of you have made up.  When his hand reaches between your legs, you hiss, some residual pain still thrumming through you.  He looks apologetic for a mere moment before pulling your pants back up, then his own.

“C’mon.”  He grunts, nodding his head toward the door.  “Let’s get some sleep.”

* * *

Feeding time comes too quickly for your liking, your fingers wound tightly with Curtis’s as he and about 50 other men haul the makeshift battering ram forward.

His face is set, determined brow taut with worry.

Only when you run your fingers, and then your lips over his skin does he look to you.

A moment of softness, caring beautiful eyes staring down at you.  You do your best to save the sight to memory.  You’re not stupid.  Naive, maybe, but not stupid.  Not everyone would survive this attack and you wouldn’t hold out hope that he would.  Or you, for that matter.

A soft, lingering kiss is pressed to your lips, his forehead resting on yours a moment later.

The clanking sounds of the gates opening pulls you both back to reality and he kisses your knuckles one last time before moving to the front.

“I’m coming back for you.”  He promises, words and eyes fierce as he glares down the guards before him.   His profile is gorgeous, all hard lines and strong features.  He’s yours, and you are his.

But you both belong to Wilford.


End file.
